Surviving is Relative
by A Lady in the Golden Wood
Summary: Time stopped when she saw Hayate's body on the roof; one thought stole her mind...I never expected to be a widow at twenty-four...a Yugao/Iruka oneshot.


Of course, the rain _would_ stop when the memorial was over.

I resisted the urge to throw a kunai at the emerging sun. More than pointless, it would be plain stupid. The last thing I needed was a medical enquiry as to the state of my sanity.

As for carrying kunai at the memorial ceremony of the Third Hokage and, among others, my love…well, I was ANBU. And we always had to be prepared.

I walked alone across the brick-paved surface with the view of Konoha stretched out before me and my black clothing reflecting my mood as well as any color could. I'd been depressed before, but when I thought about it, _that _depression was always sort of gray -- down, but not rock bottom. Sad, but not heart broken. Pessimistic, but not hopeless.

Now it seemed I'd reached every extreme of depression that was possible.

Rock bottom.

Heart broken.

Hopeless.

I eyed the scattered groups of people who were heading for the stairs. Much of the solemnity obvious at the memorial was now slipping away in the light of the rain-strengthened sun. Smiles, weak and pale, but present, were appearing on a few faces. Eyes that had been bright with tears just minutes ago were now soft and dark; shoulders were straighter, and steps quicker.

Damn the sun. Damn those who could find hope in its warm rays.

_The same sun will never shine on you twice_. I could hear his voice in my head, so clear that I almost turned around to search for his tired face. I stopped myself just before my head turned. Medical enquiry. Just think about avoiding it.

_Prove it_, I'd demanded, digging my feet into the ground to push the rubber swing up higher into the spring air as I twisted to see his face. The circles under his abysmal brown eyes always seemed less dramatic in bright sunlight; he barely pushed his swing, instead moving side-to-side as he stared up at the sky. The air cutting around me was the only sound in our lazy afternoon.

_Well, you'll always have the same sun, I suppose_, he said, glancing over at me for a moment before retuning his gaze to the sky. _But never the same rays_.

_Why's this mater?_ I asked with a small smile, closing my eyes as I hung nearly horizontal in the air before falling again, leaving my stomach behind at the top of the arc.

_It doesn't_, he said with a role of his eyes. I swung far behind him, pumping my legs to go higher.

_Then why'd you mention it? _I asked, swinging for another moment before leaping off the swing at its highest point. Flight was exhilarating and heart-stopping; but, as always, a jarring thud rocked my body as I landed hard on my feet. My dark lavender hair fell into my face; I pushed it back as I stood up straight and trudged around to the swing-set. Hayate watched me carefully and didn't speak till I was standing in front of him, an inquisitive eyebrow raised.

Even then, he was slow to come up with words. Finally, after a moment of stuttering, he gave up.

_I like to hear you ask questions_, he admitted. I cocked my head to one side in confusion. _Everyone else just takes what I say for granted_. He shrugged. _Don't mess with the sick kid, you know_. He looked up at me through his dark bangs in a way that I knew was worried.

So I smiled, leaned forward, and kissed him lightly on the lips.

_If you like to hear my questions, I'll keep asking them_. After a moment, he smiled back. I skipped back to the other swing and kept up my pursuit of flight, never knowing that I'd given Hayate the same feeling I had at the top of the arc -- a weightlessness that surpassed physics and emotions, a freedom that ripped the sky in two.

Hayate never had been one for finding hidden meaning in every turn of the earth. I suppose when one is diagnosed with an incurable lung illness at the age of two, one tends to grow up with a matter-of-fact outlook induced by monthly medic visits and non-stop teasing from the kids in school, not to mention that ones at home. Such had been Hayate's life; with a terminal illness that had to be treated every month dogging his steps, he'd been more surprised than anyone when he'd made jounin.

I remembered the day -- remembered his animation, which was so seldom seen that you remembered every time it occured. I remembered the smile that had widened into a grin, his tight grip on my arms as he'd pulled me into a breath-stealing hug, and the laughter-filled coughing fit that had followed.

_Yugao_, he said through gasps for breath. He didn't need to add anything. The twinkle in his usually bored-as-death eyes said it all for him.

I'd sworn to myself that I wouldn't be this way -- sworn that I would hold myself together in a way that would make him proud. By swearing is usually done in the heat of the moment when rational thought is left behind, and the tradition held true for these oaths.

So now I was just miserable, walking through puddles because moving around them required aforementioned rational thought, and clenching my hands into fists inside the long sleeves of my black jacket, hoping no one would notice and screaming for attention at the same time.

Well, Hayate always said that where there was trouble -- from a cat with claws locked in a passionate embrace with a tree to a cult-meeting of crazed missing-nins chanting over a rabid shaman -- Umino Iruka would find it. And he _would _know. If Hayate ever called anyone his friend, Iruka would have been first.

At that moment, I could definitely be qualified as trouble.

He landed abruptly in front of me, landing in one of the deeper puddles. I eyed him for a moment before forcing a zero-enthusiasm smirk to transform my face.

Wincing, Iruka jumped out of the puddle and fell into step beside me, water squishing out of his sandals.

"Good afternoon, Yugao-san."

I ignored the obvious reply of _what's good about it _and nodded briefly.

"Iruka." At this point, I was pretty hostile towards the I'm-so-sorry-for-your-loss/he-was-such-an-upstanding-ninja front, so I was hoping that, for his own sake, Iruka could be a little more original.

We were nearing the steps when he finally spoke.

"The sun came out a little early, don't you think?"

I nearly missed a step from surprise; whatever the cause, I stopped walking.

"What?"

"Well," he said, eyes on the sky, "it feels early to me."

I stared at him.

"Define early."

"Well," he said, scratching the back of his head and looking down in an embarrassed sort of way, "I guess I'm just not ready for it."

I stared at him until I noticed he was becoming uncomfortable. Of course -- no one could read my eyes like Hayate had.

So, for the benefit of the scarred man, I manipulated my lips into something that may have looked like a smile.

"Thank-you, Iruka-san." He blushed and reached up to tighten his ponytail.

"What for?" he asked in a dismissive sort of way. I kept my smile on for a moment longer, then pulled it off and stored it back inside my mind closet.

"For understanding." And, knowing I'd embarrass him more if I said anything else, or even if I stayed a moment longer, I turned and started down the stairs.

By the time I reached the bottom, the sun had grown stronger. The heat on my black clothing and dark hair was too much -- I just wanted to be cold, alone, and silent.

With an absent-minded glance up at the ledge that revealed Iruka to still be standing, silhouetted against the sky, I began the long walk to my apartment. It had been _ours_. But I was a widow now, and it was simply mine.

I wasn't nearly finished mourning Hayate; I wasn't ready to stand in the sun. But, with the feeling of being watched pursuing me down the street, I had the vague sort of inkling that until I was, someone would be standing outside my door, understanding, accepting, and…waiting.

For the first time since I'd discovered Hayate, lying in his own blood on a Konoha roof, time rolled forward instead of backwards. And for a brief moment, I came to the conclusion that I just might survive this.

* * *

Okay, it's sort of abrupt there at the end...and I don't have a good reason for this one-shot...just that I felt like writing one...and I love Yugao/Iruka...and there is soooo little of it...if you have a good one, tell me...please...and review! I love to know what people are thinking...if they are...which they usually are...about something or another...but maybe I just want to know what you're thinking about this one-shot...and not the other random things in your life...unles you want to share those...then I promise I won't call you weird...I'm rambling. Someone stop me!

Pardon mistakes...and rambling...you don't have to be cool to review, but reviewing makes you cool...if that makes any sense... :)


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